


We can't hide the evidence in our heads

by solarfemm



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarfemm/pseuds/solarfemm
Summary: just some straightup good old fuckin





	We can't hide the evidence in our heads

**Author's Note:**

> i read this one fic [you know i’d quench that thirst](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942362/chapters/32095881) by napricot which is basically a history of steve’s rship with his own dick and it included details about how pre serum he couldn’t get hard all that often or for very long bcos of all his illnesses and how even breathing was difficult for him and i’ve taken that headcanon and run with it and now it is a recurring theme in my fic i have so much to thank napricot for if you’re reading this i devoured that fic like nobody’s business
> 
> Title from lady gaga sexxx dreams hehehehehehehehhehghgehehge

Bucky is the luckiest guy in the world. He passes Uncle Joe’s sweet shop with ten dollars in his pocket and leaves with nine-fifty, pockets full of candy to bring home to his sweetheart, a swing in his step as his feet hit the pavement. The sun casts a sepia haze over the city as it begins to set, counting down to the time when Brooklyn comes alive, but tonight Bucky’s got somewhere to be, and all the lights and watered down whiskey in mob-owned dance halls can’t take him away from that.

It’s a natural response every time he nears Steve’s apartment to be wary of what he might find, but yesterday he left Steve in good health and Sarah assured him, as she always does, that she’ll call if Steve needs anything, because she likes that Bucky is someone they can both depend on. Bucky’s not going to leave Steve any time soon, not before Steve kissed him, and not now either.

He knocks on the door but it’s open and Steve greets him from the floor of the kitchen with a smile and a smudge of charcoal across his cheeks, half-hidden behind a canvas that’s propped against a stack of books. “Hey, sweetheart,” Steve says, and it sends a thrill through Bucky’s body that he can’t describe. 

“Hey, yourself.” Steve continues drawing, so Bucky comes around to look at what he’s working on. It would be easy to bend down and kiss his cheek in the kind of hello his own parents give each other, but something stops him; nervousness, shyness, anxiety—he’s never in his life felt these kinds of things about someone he’s been sweet on, but maybe it just never meant as much to him as this does. Instead he puts him hand on Steve’s shoulder, lightly, as he bends over to look. 

“It’s the Madonna,” Steve says, unnecessarily. 

“I got that, pal.” The line work is amazing, the shading sublime. Steve could sell his artwork rather than work his way through college as a newspaper artist, but every time they’ve gotten into an argument about it Steve’s said the same thing: he doesn’t want to sell his art, because it’s a part of him he doesn’t want to give up and sell out for. Mary is crying, great, haunting tears, her arms empty. 

Steve rests his head on Bucky’s hand and it snaps him out of the trance he was in just staring at the canvas. “Is that something in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Bucky laughs and pulls it all out—a couple of sticks of Artisan’s caramel, some spearmint gum and a mallow cup just for Steve that he presses into his free hand. Steve’s face falls.

“Buck, really, that’s nice but I can’t take that—”

“Steve,” Bucky says, putting on his best grown-up voice. It rarely works, but he tries anyway. “You’re gonna eat a mallow cup and you’re gonna be happy about it.”

Steve smiles up at him with his bangs in his face and Bucky’s heart can’t take it. He leans down and kisses him, softly and sweetly the way he wants to, and Steve kisses back just like it for a few seconds before he lets his hunger show, gets a hand around the back of Bucky’s neck, and pulls Bucky down to his level. Bucky’s knees hit the hard timber floor but it’s worth it to have Steve’s lips on his and Steve’s hands touching him. 

“Sarah out for the night?”

Steve nods, makes a noise that echoes across Bucky’s tongue, and then starts pulling at Bucky’s clothes. It’s always like this with Steve, and never with any of the girls Bucky’s been with; sometimes he’d rather take his time, put a bit of romance into it, light a candle or two and break out the massage oils he stole from his sister, but mostly he just wants to be with Steve any way he can. 

Steve leans back and pulls Bucky with him, and they end up in a tangle of loose limbs and hot desire, clothes partially off, losing buttons that neither of them care for. It’s hard not to get lost in the heat of Steve’s mouth, Bucky’s mind already full of it, a haze that has made him do stupider things for less than Steve’s mouth on his, for even just the promise that Steve will touch him, anywhere, god, anywhere. Bucky’s happy to do anything with him, and Steve seems up to the challenge of doing everything, already putting Bucky through his paces even though their first kiss was a month ago; they’ve used any spare minute they can to learn how to put their hands and mouths on each other. It’s delicious; it’s addictive. What Bucky wouldn’t do to get his mouth on every part of Steve’s body he can.

Soon enough their clothes are off and they’re rubbing up against each other on the floor of Sarah’s kitchen, Bucky’s dick already smearing across Steve’s hip, Steve semi-hard. That’s the way it is; Steve has trouble getting hard, sometimes staying hard long enough to come, but Bucky doesn’t care. He couldn’t give a fuck what Steve has going on down there, Bucky just wants to touch and taste and kiss him. He moves his hand, cradling the back of Steve’s head as a buffer against the floor, down his body to his hip, smoothing his thumb over the muscles in Steve’s stomach. It’s not meant to be a tease, but Steve always takes it as one.

“Touch me, asshole. Do I really gotta ask every time?”

“Yeah, Steve, that’s what consent it.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “When you’re with me, you always have my consent.”

Bucky shakes his head as he trails his fingers through the hair on Steve’s slim thigh, and this time it is a tease. “Nope, that’s not how it works. Suppose one day you’re not in the mood and I am, what’s going happen?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says pointedly, “when have I ever been ‘not in the mood’ for your dick in my mouth?”

Bucky feels a white-hot lash of desire strike him, curling heat in his belly and turning him on even more, but he persists. “Say one day you’re made at me, ‘cause I did something stupid like look a girl when you told me not to—”

Steve sighs, letting his head fall back onto the wood. “I don’t care who you look at. When have I ever—”

“Okay, how about you finally get sick of me bringing you sweets all the time, and tell me to stop wasting my money, and we get into a fight about it?”

Steve seems to ponder this. “That fight would just end in sex anyway.”

Bucky hangs his head, and presses it against the bones of Steve’s chest. He’s so thin. The weather hasn’t done him any good; this winter passed like a nightmare, Steve bedridden with a tonsil infection while he drew and coughed up puss all day long, and he hasn’t had much to eat or gone outside that often in months. Bucky wants to feed him potatoes and beef until he’s big enough to be able to withstand a strong wind. 

“I’m not going to just assume you want sex all the time.”

“But I do,” Steve says, so honestly. He tilts Bucky’s head up with a finger until they’re looking each other in the eye. “I always want to fuck you. You’re my favourite person, my best friend. How could I not want you?”

And _fuck_. What can Bucky say to that? He kisses Steve again, and this time Steve lets him deepen it without teeth. He skates his fingers up and over, feeling his way to Steve’s cock with a sense of direction so acute he could map it. By now he knows the topography of Steve’s body, what secrets it holds, what power it wields, and he thinks nothing could surprise him.

He’s wrong, of course. 

After stroking him a few times he gets the better idea of taking Steve into his mouth, bent at a crooked angle that makes his whole body hurt. “Shit, okay, bed. Can we—”

“Yeah,” Steve says, and Bucky practically lifts him off the groud to lead him into his bedroom and lower him onto the bed. 

“Jesus, Buck, you’re not going to break me. I’ve taken on guys a lot bigger’n you.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, and you lost.”

“I got a few good licks in.”

“And some broken bones.”

“I’m just saying—” He grunts as Bucky takes him into his mouth again, sinking into the patch of dark hair that tickles his lips. “You don’t have to be so precious with me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and tries to ignore him in favor of making him feel good, and eventually Steve lets his silent judgment rest and lies back on the bed. Bucky pulls of with a pop and licks a stripe up Steve’s cock. “Does this feel good?” He strokes him with one hand, teasing out little pearls of come that dribble over his fingers. 

Steve lets out a sigh. “Yeah, yes. Keep doing that, fuck.”

Bucky laps at the head of Steve’s cock, still only half-hard, but as long as Steve’s having a good time that’s enough for Bucky. He takes him in again, sinking down to the base of Steve’s not unimpressive, but definitely Bucky’s favourite, cock. It’s not that he tastes any better than the other guys Bucky’s been with, it’s that he loves Steve—he can say it, he’s an adult now, and they do adult things together—and Bucky’s known that he’s been in love with Steve since he was 17, three whole years of pining and missed opportunities that somehow landed them here, and Steve would be Bucky’s favourite if he had a dick or not. He wants Steve to know that, and he’s not always the best with words, so he puts everything he has into making Steve come. It takes about twenty-five minutes of Bucky working him over with his mouth and his hands until his jaw is so sore he feels like he’s gone ten rounds with his boxing coach, but Steve does come, weakly pulsing into Bucky’s mouth with a bitter tang and a soft gasp. It’s all Bucky wants.

Steve’s chest is heaving with the exertion, and Bucky lays his head on Steve’s stomach, aware of his own cock, fully hard from sucking Steve’s, but only distantly. Steve’s skin is slick with sweat and he curses until he gets his breath back, and maybe there’s a reason all the nice dames Bucky picks up at dance halls don’t want Steve, even though it’s something that Bucky loves about him, how expressive he is, how little he cares about adhering to the rules of polite society. When Steve finally goes knocking on heaven’s door, it’s not Saint Peter who will judge him, but the other way around. Those girls just don’t know what they’re missing. 

“I’ve got something for you.” Steve sits up to reach into his bedside draw and pulls out a tub of vaseline he puts in Bucky’s palm.

Bucky rolls it around in his hand. “Oh, great. Thanks, I guess, but, you know, you tire me out already so I don’t really need to—” He stops talking when he notices Steve staring at him, growing increasingly more confused. “What?”

“It’s not for you to use on yourself, it’s for you to use on me.”

Bucky chews on that thought for a few seconds. “But we already—”

“Jesus christ.” Steve takes the initiative to use Bucky’s fingers, scoop out some vaseline, and then push his hand down, past his softened cock, past his sack, and then there, the soft give of his body. 

Bucky chokes on his own spit. He pushes himself up on his elbow, but doesn’t pull his hand out of Steve’s grasp. Steve is so warm there, and Bucky can feel a blush tinge his own cheeks. “Steve, what are you doing?”

Steve gives him that same look, that “when they were giving out brain cells you were the last in line” look. “All that time you spent chatting to queers in dance halls and bars, it never once occurred to you to think about what two men get up to?”

“I thought, you know, what we were already doing. They gave me some tips, but…” He trails off after Steve throws his head back and laughs. “Come on, it never came up, okay? How was I supposed to ask about something I didn’t even know?”

“You’re sweet.” Steve’s expression fades to fondness before his raises his eyebrows. “So you wanna?”

Bucky’s brow furrows in concern. “Won’t it hurt?”

“A little at first, I think, but I’m keen.” In true Steve nature, of course he’s ready to throw himself into the first sign of danger just because he wants to.

“What if it, you know, gets messy?”

Steve shrugs. “Haven’t eaten all day.” When Bucky squares his jaw and glares at him, Steve continues, “But I had a big breakfast! Besides, it’s one of the hazards of the job.”

Bucky so far hasn’t hear a good reason why he should hurt Steve, at least not until Steve says, “It’ll be good for you, I promise. Think of my mouth around your cock, but better, tighter, hotter,” and Bucky feels his blush deepen. “I promise if it gets too much I’ll tell you to stop.”

Bucky nods, his mind and his dick finally interested. “How do we—?”

Steve manoevres him until he’s between Steve’s legs, like they do sometimes with Bucky’s hand around them both and Steve’s weight on him, but this time—Bucky isn’t prepared. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and, as much as he trusts Steve, Steve has always been prone to doing the most reckless thing for the least gain. But if it’s going to make him happy, Bucky will do it.

Steve uses the vaseline on Bucky’s fingers to slick up his cock, and it’s so nice having Steve’s hands on him, stroking him. “Come here,” Steve says, and Bucky leans on his forearms while Steve brings his own knees up to his chest. Bucky’s heart beats so hard in his chest he feels it might burst, and when the head of his cock brushes that spot again he gasps. Steve grins, leans up to kiss him, says, “Are you ready?” in the way that usually ends with Bucky coming so hard he sees stars. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Steve keeps his grip on Bucky’s cock and lines him up. “You gotta move, okay?”

Bucky nods, already starting to lose it, and pushes forward. There is resistance at first, and Steve’s eyes scrunch up, but he urges Bucky on, and as soon as he gets past the first catch he feels the heat of Steve’s body envelop him, grip tight around Bucky’s cock, better than anything he’s felt before. 

“Keep going,” Steve says, his hand in Bucky’s hair and pulling, “Oh, god, just—”

Bucky starts to lose himself quickly, but it’s Steve’s broken-off noises that make him pay attention. “This okay? Are you—”

“Don’t ask me,” Steve says, gritting his teeth, digging his nails into Bucky’s scalp, “just fuck me. If you ask me that again I’ll murder you.”

“Right.” Bucky scrunches his eyes up, lets out a breath. “Right.” He keeps pushing in until he’s fully seated inside Steve, and that’s—he’s inside Steve, fucking him, as close to him as he can possibly get. He doesn’t have the words to describe how good it feels, nor the ability to think them. It’s hard to keep his weight on his elbows like a gentleman and not fall on top of Steve, but he manages. “What do I—?”

Steve laughs, an honest to god laugh that makes Bucky grit his teeth. “Fuck me like one of the girls you take home.”

Bucky gets the idea, but he shakes his head. “No. You’re not like them. They don’t compare.”

Steve groans and covers his face with his hands. “Please don’t say shit like that to me when your dick is in my ass. I can’t handle how much of a sap you are.”

Bucky nudges his hands away to kiss the smile off his face. He wraps an arm around Steve’s thigh while he leans his weight back on his knees and pushes forward in a slick slide that has them moaning in tandem, Steve’s body so hot around Bucky, so tight. He does it again, and again, better each time despite how inexperienced they are. Bucky’s been with a couple girls, not as many as Steve seems to think despite how much they’ve shared, and Bucky knows Steve’s never done this with a guy. It doesn’t matter. It’s all Bucky wants to do now, and only with Steve.

The more he fucks into Steve, the better it gets, until Steve’s moaning his name, saying, “Fuck, fuck, like that,” until Bucky dicks in as much as he can and Steve’s back arches as he cries out.

Bucky stops immediately. “Shit, are you—fuck, what—?”

“If you ask me if I’m okay again,” Steve warns, but he’s smiling, laughing, his eyes closed and head thrown back to reveal the long column of his throat, which, like the rest of him, shines with sweat. “Do that again, now.”

There’s nothing Bucky likes as much as Steve ordering him around, so he obeys, dicking into Steve at the same time he pulls him in with the grip on his thigh. Steve does it again, his back arching, crying out and digging his fingers into Bucky’s back as if he wants to bruise him, break him, take him apart in the worst kind of way. It’s working. Bucky is falling apart at the seams, a patchwork doll of a man who’s coming loose with one pull of a thread, and Steve’s the one pulling. 

Bucky gains enough self-awareness to sit back on his knees and pull Steve with him. Bucky’s strong, has always taken pride in his muscles, even more so now that Steve can touch them, and it doesn’t take much to lift Steve up and pull him into his lap. He slips out as he does, but Steve goes willingly, clinging onto Bucky, gasping, sinking down when Bucky lines up and pushes back in. 

“How is it now?” Bucky surprises himself with how out breath he is. Being with Steve is always like swimming the length of the East River, despite how Steve can’t hold his breath for more than twelve seconds or run to save his life, but this is an area he excels in, always too fast for Bucky, always making him catch up.

Steve buries his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, panting, his breath as hot as his body. “Good, so good. Jesus, Buck, you really know how to make it memorable.”

Bucky fucks into him again, and again, and again, until Steve’s coming untouched, fat drops of come that hit Bucky’s skin like raindrops and slide into his pubic hair. Bucky watches it, and that, coupled with the feeling of Steve clenching around him, pushes him over the edge into his own orgasm. 

Bucky is still hard for a few moments when he pulls out of Steve, carefully, so carefully, and lowers him back onto the bed, which, for once, Steve doesn’t object to. They lie together getting their breath back for a couple minutes in which Bucky reevaluates his entire life. All the events that led up to this moment. How he wouldn’t change any of them. 

When he looks at Steve, Steve’s lit up and dappled in sunlight from the open window, his hair a mess, and looking back at Bucky, taking Bucky’s hand and stitching him back together.


End file.
